Shattered
by jm1681
Summary: One night in prison, something terrible happened to Rebecca. One night many months later, she'll get the chance to settle the score. M for subject matter and language. Please Review.


_Hello Black Lagoon archive! Been a while :(_

_So, what we have here is the result of me finally watching the OVAs in their entirety, one right after the other. Funny how you can write something over and over again, know it happened, and **still** not be ready for it. Suffice it to say, I didn't make it through episode 5 before opening up Word. It was maybe an hour or so before I was done, and I felt just a little bit better._

_Now, I'm not 100% on the authenticity of the canon-ness of the scenario. It was tough to keep up with as it happened, and I was more than a little traumatized after watching. So, if I've made a massive mistake, I sincerely apologize. I really needed what I made, just to get myself out of the imminent depression._

_Enough talk, I always do that :( I still don't own Black Lagoon ;)_

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><p><strong>Shattered<strong>

They kept her hands in cuffs. It was the only way to deal with a gutter rat like Rebecca Lin. Killing her stepfather earned her this place within these concrete and metal walls, and the several guards and inmates she'd killed while inside meant the cuffs stayed on every second of every day. Simply getting the medical staff to pour soup down her throat was a hard sell. She'd spit their kindness back in their faces the first ten times, till her stomach couldn't be denied another second without sustenance. After two months, they'd simply left those cuffs on while she was in her cell as well.

She was a dog to them; a mangy, filthy, piece of shit that should have been killed, but, the state said 'no'. They _couldn't_put a seventeen year-old girl on death row, no matter how many bodies she'd accumulated. The guards didn't mind the state's decision though. After all, what better way to punish the little bitch, than to have her alive for them to toy with every day.

It started with spitting. A nameless face had walked by her cell, and stopped to look in on her. Back then, they kept her legs bound as well, leaving her on the cold, hard floor of her cell. It wasn't like any other inmates would see how they treated her in solitary, and the other guards would never make a peep for her. In fact, some of them took more than a modicum of delight from watching her lay there, helpless and alone.

The guard scrounged up as much mucous and muck as he could from his throat and spit it onto her shiftless form.

"Fucker," she muttered with little push to her voice. She was too weak to yell, and not angry enough to scream. Unfortunately, the stakes grew higher as the days passed.

She remembered his face well. A deeply hidden and scarred part of her wanted to see him as an angel. He passed her cell every day, and every day, he looked in, appearing sad for her. Of course it wasn't a moment before she pushed the thoughts aside. He was just like the rest of them; she knew it in her heart. At least she thought she knew it, till that day.

The guards were well into beating her by that time. Sometimes they came in groups, some to hold her still, while the others beat her to unconsciousness. That day though, it was just one guard. It wasn't like she could have defended herself anyway. She was lying on cuffed hands, and her bound legs were far too heavy to lift. Still, he pressed his knee to her chest, and wound up his fist. His knuckles slammed into her forehead, snapping her head back against the hard concrete.

He had walked by at just the right moment it would seem, just in time to stop her from being beaten so badly. He pulled the guard off of her, just barely in time for her to see him before the lights went out. The next day, when she woke, he was waiting. He smiled at her, and as she looked up at him, littered in blood, bruises, and a swollen black eye, she found a smile as well. He slowly leaned down, careful not to frighten her, and gently lifted her up onto her knees. Her lips cracked open, and just as words were about to appear, his boot crashed into her face.

_This is just how the world is_, she thought.

He kicked her over and over again, but even weak and in phenomenal pain, her adrenaline was running strong; exactly as he wanted her. Pulling off her tattered and ripped pants was easy enough, her stained underwear following a moment later. She squirmed about as best she could, before being buried under his weight. Just like that, the last shred of innocence and dignity she had was taken from her.

"Fuck you!" she roared. Over and over again she screamed it, but no one came, and no one cared. He left her on that concrete, half-naked, violated, and filthy.

The following morning, she still hadn't moved. Her designated caregiver found her exactly as he had left her. The nurse always found her beaten and bloody, and never said a word about it to anyone, but this was too much. She entered the cell in a hurry, but as soon as she attempted to lift Rebecca's form from the ground, she screamed out, and writhed out of the nurse's grasp.

"Get the fuck off of me!" she shouted. "Don't fucking touch me!"

"Just let me-"

"FUCK OFF!"

Rebecca fought every step of the way. She spit every last ounce of broth the nurse attempted to feed her right back in her face, but even with that, the young lady still gave her decency. She pulled her pants and undergarments back around her waist, and left her as she lay, as she apparently wanted to be left. However, when she reached the cell door, she turned back to Rebecca. "They'll never hurt you again," she promised.

"Fuck you," Rebecca pushed. Broth leaked from her open lips, and again she said it, "Fuck you." Over and over again, she repeat those words, when the nurse realized, she wasn't talking to her; she was in shock through and through.

That day, no one else came to see her, and the following day, aside from her meal visit, she was again left alone. The remainder of the week played out the same way. On Friday, her nurse had come and even tended to her wounds. Unfortunately, she could only manage the physical wounds, the mental trauma was out of her league, and no matter how many times she asked, or how many words she used; Rebecca wouldn't speak.

Days passed, then weeks, then months. All of them spent on that concrete floor, and all of them spent alone, save for brief visits from her nurse. It was on the fourth month that the warden paid Rebecca a visit, with her caregiver. He entered her cell and looked on her, finally seeing her face. It seemed that every time the warden had seen her before, it was always with bloody wounds and black eyes. Now though, it had been months since anyone laid an unkind hand on her.

She almost looked pretty.

"Do you see now?" the nurse asked. She waved her hand in front of Rebecca's face, her eyes remaining perfectly still. "She's completely gone, she's no threat; take off the cuffs."

The warden had seen the aftermath of what Rebecca was capable of, and taking those cuffs off seemed like the furthest thing from a good idea. However, the evidence on her face was fairly substantial; she looked lobotomized.

He let out a heavy sigh, and finally went to undo the cuffs from her legs. "So you'll take them all off?" the nurse beside him asked.

He looked back to her and replied simply, "The cuffs on her legs can go; she's too weak to do anything harmful with them anyway. The cuffs on her wrists stay on, but I'll allow them in front of her."

The nurse reached out and placed her hand on his. "_I'll_do as you wish, but please leave us so that I can clean her, and change her clothes?"

The warden looked back on Rebecca's form. Her arms were all but bone, and her pants were largely empty, no longer filled by strong legs. Then there were those eyes; unblinking and vacant. He turned back to the nurse and replied, "As you wish. I've got a guard posted outside, but still, be careful around her."

"Thank you, sir." the nurse replied.

Within a few difficult moments, Rebecca's skin and hair were cleaner than they'd been in months, and she wore a fresh a fresh orange jumpsuit. The nurse helped Rebecca off of the concrete, and onto her bed, still failing to receive a reaction from the broken young girl. She sighed aloud, and bundled up Rebecca's old clothes to discard them. She stepped to the cell door, when a voice that wasn't hers broke the air.

"Burn them." Rebecca quietly requested.

She could have gone on about how big an achievement it was that she spoke, but instead left it as it was; a small, but good step in the right direction. "I will," the nurse promised.

From that day on, the nurse returned every day, bringing real, full meals with her. Slowly but surely, Rebecca was eating again, and even slower still, her arms and legs were filling out as well. Every day that past, she healed a little, but every night was the same. Her dreams marred by the memory of being pinned under that man, helpless as he raped her. She woke every morning feeling a false wetness where his tongue touched her. She knew ever curve of his face, every last detail, so that should the day come that she would meet him again, she would have her revenge.

Luckily for her, that day was today.

So much had changed since that night. She was moved into the general population, and while her hands always remained cuffed, all who watched over her disregarded her as a threat. Every guard in gen-pop knew her name, and they all knew what had happened to her in solitary. They all knew the story, and all knew how it left her a vacant shell. Eat, and sleep; that was Rebecca Lin's life.

At least it was.

There were murmurs that the guard who had been suspended for her rape, and several of the guards suspended for beating her were returning to work. It was during lights-out that he came for her, and he found her just as he'd been told he would; blank, and unresponsive. Slowly he walked her back to her old cell in solitary. She never argued or fought, she simply trudged along as he pushed her. He might have thought for a minute just how easy it all seemed, had he not been so blinded by his desire to punish her once more.

He locked the door to her old cell, but when he turned to face her, the girl he'd escorted didn't look back at him; his executioner did.

She was right on top of him as he turned, and with a few quick motions, she'd broken his nose, and slammed her knee into his crotch. The split second stun was all she needed to break him down further. Her elbow crashed into his jaw, followed by her heal to his forehead, flattening him against the concrete as he had done to her. She raised her heal once more, and again slammed it down onto his crotch with all of her might. Over, and over, and over again she did it. When he was finally in pain too great to defend himself, she reached for the Beretta on his belt and dropped her knee onto his chest, knocking all of the wind from his lungs.

She slammed the barrel of the weapon between his lips, and further still till the length of the weapon was lodged in his throat. His eyes nearly popped from their sockets, and all manner of cracked and garbled speech poured from his impeded lips.

"What the fuck are you trying to say?" she asked.

More broken noise.

"I can't hear you," she calmly spoke. "Are you begging?" Her pointer finger tightened on the trigger. She wanted to savor this as long as she could. She didn't care that she might be killed for this, she just wanted to watch him die. She pulled the hammer back, and pushed even harder against his skull. "C'mon, you fucker; beg," she demanded. "Beg me not to kill you."

More noise still.

"Oh well."

The shots were loud as explosions in the silence of solitary. She kept squeezing the trigger, even after expelling all fifteen of the bullets in the weapon. The cycling of the action had ripped several of his teeth out as well, adding to the shower of blood that saturated her skin and jumpsuit. Finally, she came back to reality. She let go of the weapon, leaving it as it was in his mouth and throat. She stood from the concrete amidst the sounds of the guards as they approached. Looking at the multiple, blood-soaked exit wounds that adorned his chest, Rebecca smiled, not slightly, but fully; a content and satisfied smile. The sigh that followed, released all of the weight she held in her shoulders.

The guards that found her that night, they didn't kill her. They beat her, but they left her alive, and interestingly, the warden didn't put her back in solitary after that little incident. However, his decision to keep her hands cuffed was made that much easier.

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><p><em>And that's that. If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed it ;)<em>

_What can I say? I REALLY wasn't ready to see that happen to Revy, even though I knew it was more than likely the case for her character :( If it got to you like it got to me, hopefully this makes it just a little better ;)_

_Thanks for reading,_  
>-jm<p> 


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